


Moose Out Of Water

by pornographicrainbowlegs



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Breathplay, M/M, crowley/sam bathing suits and a pool GO (cause of the bathing suit line crowley had ok), i don't know what happened, i got a prompt, i know what happened, well that's a lie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-23
Updated: 2013-03-23
Packaged: 2017-12-06 06:41:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/732578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pornographicrainbowlegs/pseuds/pornographicrainbowlegs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crowley pushes Sam into a pool followed by breathplay and handies.</p>
<p>Prompt from a friend: crowley/sam bathing suits and a pool GO (cause of the bathing suit line crowley had ok)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moose Out Of Water

When dogs get wet, their fur seems to lose all bounce, flattening against the dogs’ body making it look too thin to exist. The same could be said about the Winchester brothers.

Sam and Dean Winchester live out of the Impala. They do not have dressers, and their overnight bags are only large enough to carry two, maybe three days of extra clothes if they are folded, which is exactly why the brothers started wearing layers of clothes.

So when Crowley pushed Sam into the pool, all five shirts become sucked tight against Sam’s chest, showing exactly how many burgers the boy hasn’t eaten.

Sam breaks the surface of the water, spluttering and shaking his head all around to get the hair from his face. “What the fuck was that for?” he demands, using his hands to squeegee the water away from his eyes and mouth.

“I’ve never seen a drowned moose before. Thought I’d rectify that situation,” Crowley sasses with brass.

The Winchester pulls his best bitch face, the one he reserves for when Dean refers to him as Samantha, or when Dean asks if that bra is his, or when Dean borrows his underwear, or when Dean…reserves for Dean, anyway.

Crowley only smirks smugly right back at the boy. Sam rolls his eyes and heads over to the entrance of the pool. Crowley walks along the edge of the pool parallel to Sam. “You look like a drowned rat,” Crowley says, offhanded like he was saying the sky was sunny or the bees were buzzing.

The bitch face would be wasted, but Sam cannot keep it from his features. He reaches the stairs that lead out of the pool and begins his climb. Water cascades down his body as he rises out of the water, splashing along the floor. Sam reaches for the first layer of flannel, pulling it off, followed by the next layer and the next and the next and the next until he is shirtless with a pile of clothes at his feet.

“Why don’t I get dinner with this show?” Crowley wonders aloud when Sam’s fingers nimbly undo his belt.

“Go screw yourself.” Sam peers up at Crowley through his hair masquerading as curtains for the moment while they sloppily drip down his neck.

“The thing about you Winchesters,” Crowley bristles, “that I am most _disappointed_ in is your lack of creative retorts.”

Sam yanks his pants down, leaves his boxers on, and gathers his clothes in his arms. “I didn’t realize it was my job to _impress_ you,” Sam shoots back over his shoulder as he makes his way out of the pool room.

The hunter pointedly ignores Crowley, walking down the hall of the hotel towards his room. He gets some unusual stares, and one very pointed glare from the hotel staff member refilling the coffee maker near the front desk. Sam tries to give her an apologetic shrug, but the girl just ignores the gesture.

Sam reaches his room and has to dig into his pants for the key card. The pants are quickly cooling and aren’t nearly as easy to navigate as they would be if dry. “I suggest you scram now,” Sam says to the demon.

“Where would be the fun in that?” Crowley inquires haughtily.

“Because if you don’t, I’ll kill you.”

“I find it prudent to my self-preservation not to underestimate you, but I cannot help but wonder how you can believe you could best me. Especially after that rather magnificent belly flop.”

Sam pinks with embarrassment. The moment the hunter is unguarded, Crowley shoves the boy into the door by his neck, nearly cutting off his air. “My point exactly,” he drawls.

The demons eyes trace Sam’s long, lengthy body, pausing along the way at his jaw, Adam’s apple, pectorals, nipples, abs, and hips, before finally reaching Sam’s suddenly tenting trunks. “Now, Moose, why haven’t you started to fight me yet?” Crowley drones.

Crowley reaches forward to touch the hem of Sam’s boxers, tracing it all the way from the left hip to the right before curling a finger underneath. Sam moans, closing his eyes. “This hit one of your kinks, Moose?”

Sam frantically nods his head as much as he can around Crowley’s hand holding him in place.

“Good,” he muses. “Because it’s hitting all of mine.”

Crowley leans forward and plants his lips harshly over Sam’s, squeezing harder with the hand around Sam’s throat, and gripping Sam’s cock with the other, giving the hunter a hand job. Sam thrusts his hips forward and back, unable to stop himself. Slowly, his head begins to swim for lack of oxygen. Crowley deepens the kiss, forcefully conquering Sam’s mouth and body. The demon quickens his hand around Sam’s dick, drawing another choked moan from Sam.

Sam’s hips are slowing in their motion while the boy slowly loses consciousness. The vision is red behind his eyelids, his head so muddled he cannot think to fight Crowley even if he wanted to. He’s collapsing on the demon, who decides in that moment to ease his hold around the hunter’s neck, allowing him to breathe. With the first inhalation of oxygen, Sam spasms beneath Crowley, and comes into the demon’s hand.

Crowley pulls his head back, completing the kiss, and pulls his hand out of Sam’s shorts. He wipes his hand on Sam’s abs, smearing the come everywhere. Only then does he completely release the hold he’s got over Sam’s throat.

Sam coughs, his own hands coming up to rub at his sore throat. Crowley looks incredibly pleased with himself. Sam wants to be annoyed by the expression, but is still recovering his muddled mind and tender throat to care. The second he can think past how nice breathing feels again, he realizes he probably owes Crowley one.

He reaches forward towards Crowley’s trousers, but before he can even reach the buckle, Crowley slaps his hands away.

“No, Moose,” Crowley reprimands. “I find it best when my _friends_ are in my debt.” And then disappears.


End file.
